


Unit Cohesion

by tacky_tramp



Category: XCOM: Enemy Unknown (2012)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:25:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacky_tramp/pseuds/tacky_tramp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bradford's job is to manage the temperamental geniuses upon which XCOM depends. They have history, however, and he's finding himself drawn into their present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unit Cohesion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amberspyglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberspyglass/gifts).



> This incorporates events from Enemy Within.

The steady beat of helicopter blades told him it was time. With only a half hour’s warning to pack, his duffel was light, and he shouldered it easily and strode out into the morning dark. 

The kid standing outside the helicopter looked him up and down. “Lt. Colonel Bradford?”

He grinned. “I sure hope so.”

It was a shitty joke, but it usually got him at least a perfunctory smile. Nothing. In fact, the kid looked like he might puke on his crisp fatigues. “Climb in, sir. We’ll brief you on the way.”

As he stepped up into the helicopter, he saw similar grim nausea on all the other faces. When the phone call woke him up, he'd figured it was a terrorist attack; now, he wasn't sure. An old fear lurched low in his stomach, something that queasy kids in new fatigues were too young to know. 

Good news: Nobody had nuked anybody. 

Bad news: Everything else was bad news.

Later, he asked candidly why he'd been chosen. They listed typical reasons: no family, spotless psych eval, strong track record as an XO. Additionally, it was anticipated that a younger man would be better able to "adapt to the new facts on the ground." A strangely delicate way of saying "cope with the existence of aliens," he thought. But sure enough, after about ten seconds of wanting to puke on his own fatigues, he was good to go. 

Focus on the trees and forget the forest. There was plenty to do, and philosophizing wasn't in his job description. 

\---

They entered the base through a tunnel of carved rock, the noise of the helicopter's engine bouncing off the smooth walls. The chopper settled on the hangar floor, and Bradford looked up just in time to see the doors closing far above. The morning sky was pale and cloudless; then it was gone. He wondered when he'd get to see the sun again. 

During the tour, he learned that the base was lit with full-spectrum bulbs. That would have to do. 

On the whole, the base felt like a cross between an aircraft carrier and an office building. And a construction site. The barebones were complete, but they’d add new facilities as they went. That was when he realized, really realized, that this wasn’t going to be a skirmish. This was the new normal. Maybe for the rest of his life.

\---

He was reviewing barracks assignments when the doctor arrived. A slight woman with large blue eyes and chestnut hair that was just starting to show streaks of grey, she stood in the middle of the lab, surveying it attentively. Several younger scientists -- the staff she’d brought with her, presumably -- were already scurrying around to rearrange things and unpack their supplies. 

When Bradford introduced himself and took her hand, she smiled. “Dr. Marie Vahlen,” she said. “I’d kiss your cheeks, but American military men tend to get very awkward when I do that.” 

He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, but she went on, heedless of his discomfort, or perhaps pleased by it. “My team is settling in fine. I trust we’ll be adding more staff soon.”

“Yes, the member nations will all sponsor additional doctors and scientists as we add capacity.”

She nodded and tapped a few times on her tablet. His tablet blinked with an incoming message. It was a list of names, some of which he recognized as Nobel laureates. She flashed him another smile. “Requests. A girl can dream.” 

They met with the Commander, and Vahlen reviewed what they knew of the aliens (very little) and their technology (even less). It quickly became apparent why she’d been picked for the job. He’d seen her resume, of course, but the clarity with which she spoke about subjects as diverse as astrophysics and anatomy astounded him. He figured he understood about 10% of what she said, which was a damn sight better than any of his college professors had managed. 

He caught himself chuckling when she used the word “xenobiology.” Apparently that was a real thing now. 

\---

The lead engineer showed up the next day. Dr. Raymond Shen took Bradford’s hand in both of his -- large hands, rough and scarred, so clearly Shen liked to build things himself rather than simply supervising. He wanted to talk facilities first, so Bradford pulled up a layout of the place, including the geologic data they had about the bedrock beneath them.

He ran a finger over the screen, his eyebrows furrowed. “Hmm, yes, underground steam vents, useful for geothermal power … well, I certainly wouldn’t have put the access lift there … satellite uplink configuration lacks efficiency …”

Bradford found himself feeling oddly defensive of the base. “The expansion has been happening rather quickly. I think they’ve done a good job with the resources available to them.”

Shen looked up, his eyes twinkling. “Well, now that I’m a resource available to them, things should run much more smoothly.” 

They stopped by Research during the tour. “Dr. Shen, this is Dr. Vahlen. She has a background in …” He trailed off when he realized the other two were staring at each other, and he had the sense that he was missing something.

"Dr. Shen and I know each other," Vahlen said primly. 

Shen nodded. "Dr. Vahlen does a lovely transfemoral amputation." 

"Why, thank you, Dr. Shen.” She turned back to Bradford. “We worked together on early cybernetics research." 

"The goal was to create fully articulated artificial limbs controlled by the mind,” Shen explained. “Unfortunately, nothing much came of it." 

Vahlen smiled. "It was nearly twenty years ago. We were just making it up as we went along." 

There was an awkward silence as the doctors regarded each other, their faces inscrutable. Bradford offered, "If the reports are true, the aliens seem to have quite advanced cybernetic capabilities.”

Shen kept his eyes on Vahlen. “Perhaps we could pick up where we left off." 

To Bradford’s surprise, a flush rose in Vahlen’s cheeks. "We'll see what opportunities present themselves." She turned on her heel, her long lab coat whirling, and headed back to her office.

Bradford caught Shen’s eye. The older man shrugged.

\---

Then they started killing aliens. X-rays, the soldiers called them. The x-rays, unfortunately, killed back. The Commander kept a cool distance from the soldiers, a decision Bradford understood and in fact thought wise; but that meant it fell to him to notify families and soothe panicked rookies. In just a few short weeks, he learned that it was better to send form letters rather than trying to write something personalized. He learned that he needed to move quickly to remove fallen soldiers’ belongings from the barracks, before their surviving squadmates could linger over the tokens and intensify their grief. He learned that he needed to be colder than he’d ever been, and he learned that he wasn’t good at cold. It didn’t matter what he was and was not good at. 

\---

One late night, Vahlen knocked on his office door. She came in bearing a bottle of schnapps and two glasses.

“Where did that come from?” he asked. All the requisition forms and shipment manifests went through his office, and schnapps was definitely not on the list. She smiled mysteriously; he frowned and rubbed his forehead. The last thing he needed to deal with was smuggling. Regardless, he took the glass she handed him and drank the liquor she poured him. They drank in silence for a few moments.

“I’m not very good at making friends,” she said suddenly.

He blinked, then laughed. “I think I used to be good at it, but forgot.” 

“Then we’re on equal footing.” Her hair was falling out of the tight hairstyle she always wore, and her eyes were bright despite her evident exhaustion. “I guess we can’t talk about TV shows or sports.”

“And we talk about work all day.”

“We talk about _my_ work all day,” she corrected him. “So, Central Officer Bradford, what do you do when you’re not checking up on the research labs?”

He glanced over his desk. Everything they did was digital, of course, but he had a bad habit of printing things out and scribbling all over them in illegible longhand. “Personnel,” he said simply.

She waited. When he didn’t elaborate, she wagged a finger at him. “I’ve been told that friendship usually involves gossip.”

The schnapps was warming his belly, so he sighed and said, “We caught two squaddies … fraternizing.”

“‘Fucking,’ you mean?” He blanched, and she actually giggled, a sound he had not thought her capable of making. She shrugged. “It’s only natural. They are young, in peak physical form, and under stress. I would be worried if it were not happening.”

“Natural or not, it’s against regulations, and those regulations exist for a reason.”

A smile played on her lips. “Perhaps it will lead to better unit cohesion.”

“Unit cohesion?”

She swirled her glass, watching the liquid inside catch the light. “Oxytocin is a powerful thing.” Seeing his confusion, she explained, “The chemical produced by the brain after orgasm. It creates a strong bond between sexual partners.”

Her tone was matter-of-fact, but her eyes sparkled with something else. Bradford coughed and shifted from one foot to the other. “Well. Be that as it may.”

“You’ll do what you think is right, I’m sure,” she said. She paused, her eyes on the glass before her but her thoughts clearly elsewhere. She took a step toward the door, then turned back. “In the interest of full disclosure, I should let you know that Dr. Shen and I once had a … _connection_ outside the laboratory.” 

He couldn’t say he was surprised. “I see.”

“It won’t be an issue,” she said quickly. “I was very young and very impressionable, and he was very charming and quite simply the most competent man I had ever met. And also, at the time, married.”

Better and better. Again, he said, “I see.”

Her cheeks had gotten very pink, whether from the liquor or the subject at hand, and she avoided eye contact. “I wasn’t the first, and I’m sure I wasn’t the last. Some men just aren’t meant to be with one person. So, given your attitude toward fraternization, I recommend you keep an eye on him and the younger engineers.”

He frowned. “But most of them are men.”

She lifted her eyebrows and smiled slightly. “Yes, they are.”

\---

There was a reason Bradford didn’t play poker. He was reminded of it the next night. 

Long after the engineers had finished up for the evening, he found Shen on his back under the main assembly line, tools strewn around him, occasionally cursing in Chinese. When Bradford approached, Shen rolled out on his creeper. 

“Still working?” Bradford asked.

“Of course not,” Shen replied jovially. “It’s just that this thing is more comfortable than my bunk.”

Bradford extended a hand and helped the other man up. “You’ve been working into the night more often than not. I must insist that you get more sleep.”

“Oh, I’ve never needed much.”

Bradford could see the dark circles forming under Shen’s eyes. “I could ask Dr. Vahlen to prepare you a sedative, if you like.”

At that, Shen chuckled. “I don’t think I want any potion concocted by that mad scientist. Maybe just some nice, warm herbal tea.”

Bradford hesitated, then asked, “Are you and Dr. Vahlen working well together?”

Shen studied him for a moment. “Ah. She told you.”

So much for subtlety. Bradford gave a tired half-shrug. “She seemed to think it was important that I understand all the dynamics in play.”

“Did she?” he asked, laughing. “And I suppose she warned you about my affection for young assistants." He waved a hand dismissively. “I’m an old man now. These kids aren’t interested.”

“I find that difficult to believe,” Bradford said. As soon as it was out of his mouth, he froze, and Shen’s eyebrows nearly flew off his forehead. “That ... didn’t come out quite right,” he said, grimacing. “I just meant, you’re in charge, you’re renowned, they must look up to you …”

Shen was smiling. “No, no, I understand. You think I’ve still got it.”

Bradford wondered why a steam pocket couldn’t open up underneath him right at that moment and swallow him up. He grinned lamely. “All I’m saying is, I’ve seen it happen with guys in worse shape than you.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment. I’m sure it’s the nicest compliment I’ll get all day. Oh, and don’t worry about me and Dr. Vahlen. We are the very souls of professionalism.”

Bradford nodded and turned to go, hoping against hope that his ears weren’t burning red, but he felt Shen’s hand on his shoulder. “One more thing,” the older man said, and he turned back around. "She warned you about me, but I wonder if she warned you about her affection for authority figures. I wasn’t the first, and I’m sure I wasn’t the last. I recommend you keep an eye on her and the Commander.”

This caught him off-guard. “Well, the Commander’s been so busy lately,” he reasoned, “so I doubt that will be an issue. I’ll probably be the one working with her more often than not.”

Shen tilted his head thoughtfully, amusement in his eyes. “Yes, that’s true.”

\---

True to their words, Shen and Vahlen maintained a functional working relationship. Bradford wondered if anyone else suspected that they had history. He hadn’t told anyone, including the Commander. Maybe that was the wrong call, but it seemed petty to bring it up. He’d deal with the fallout if something went sideways. 

They argued, of course. Vahlen was fanatical in her desire to push further and go faster. Shen was quick to point out logistical limitations and even ethical concerns. Bradford tried to keep them focused on results -- cutting off theoretical digressions, sorting out jurisdictional issues, grilling them over the applications and implications of their high-flown theories. He wanted to present a more or less unified front to the Commander. It seemed to be working. 

\---

They came to his office together one day, grinning with barely contained excitement. Bradford raised an eyebrow. “You’re both happy. Why do I get the feeling that I should be very afraid?” 

Down in engineering, a firing range had been set up. While Vahlen explained the breakthrough her team had achieved -- something about heat dissipation and energy use -- Shen pulled out a bulky pistol that glowed red. He looked entirely capable with the gun in his hand. He took aim downfield and pulled the trigger. A scarlet laser beam tore through the air with a scorching sound, and the target (shaped like a sectoid, Bradford did not fail to notice) went up in flames.

Vahlen rolled her eyes. “Beam weaponry is naturally silent, but Dr. Shen insisted on adding a noise.”

“Essential to troop morale,” Shen said. “There’s no recoil, so they need some feedback.”

“Ridiculous,” she insisted, but she couldn’t suppress a grin. 

Shen handed Bradford the pistol and explained its features. It felt good. He took a few shots and nodded. “This will make a real difference. And I like the noise. Excellent work, both of you. Please pass along my compliments to your teams.” He offered the pistol to Vahlen. “Your turn.”

She held her hands up and took a step back. “Oh, no. I’ve never fired a gun in my life.”

His mouth fell open. 

"Well, why would I have?" she said airily. "They don't teach that in medical school." 

Bradford's tone was serious, but a twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. "Dr. Vahlen, as the Central Officer of XCOM, I can't have one of my men unprepared for battle." 

She laughed. Despite her insistence that they were in the safest place on Earth, he told her to clear the afternoon for a lesson. He turned to Shen. “You’ll help, right?”

“Certainly not. I tried to teach her to drive stick once. I won’t make the same mistake twice.” When she menaced him with her tablet, he beat a quick retreat. 

The lesson went well. She showed natural aptitude, and Bradford had to admit that he liked playing the expert for once. He’d nudge her elbow in and reposition her shoulders, just as he had with so many soldiers before. Tunnel vision and muscle memory took over. It wasn’t until the end of the lesson that he realized how close their bodies were. Strands of her hair were brushing his face, and she smelled slightly of oranges. Was she smuggling in fruity shampoo, too? 

She turned her face up to his, and he took a quick step back. The front of his sweater was still warm where she’d been pressed against him. “Good work,” he said stiffly.

Her smile was suddenly cordial. “Thank you, Central Officer Bradford.”

He took the pistol from her, taking care not to brush her fingers with his. Then, surprising himself, he said, “You know, you can call me Mike.”

She laughed. “And I suppose you’ll start calling me Marie? I can’t imagine that.” She nodded a good-bye and headed back to Research. 

When he went to Engineering to pick up the first batch of laser pistols for the soldiers, Shen showed him the laser rifle prototype. They stood side-by-side at the table. Shen's hand went to his back, directing his attention here and there. It felt warm and solid between his shoulder blades. And then, so slight he might have imagined it, Bradford felt Shen's thumb trace the dip of his spine. He turned his head, but Shen hadn’t looked up from the rifle, hadn’t even paused in his explanation of the innovative new safety features he’d included. Maybe he had imagined it. Probably. Hopefully.

\---

He just wasn't getting touched enough. Handshakes with the commander, fist bumps with the soldiers, sure; no fingers brushing the back of his neck or the plane of his cheek. 

Topside, he’d had a reputation for being married to his work, but there was always someone every few months. Go on a couple dates, maybe spend the night once or twice, and then one of them would just stop calling. Usually him, if he was honest. Somewhere along the line, he’d decided relationships were too risky, even with civilians. Especially with civilians. But especially within the chain of command.

Shore leave, he knew, was not an option. There are no vacations at the end of the world, no matter how much he needed to get laid.

\---

He overheard them once when they thought they were alone. Shen's voice low and intimate: "You're thin. Are you eating?" And Vahlen's, irritated but somehow fond: "Please don't trouble yourself over the size of my ass." Shen, taking it in stride: "And ease up on the eyeliner, too." Her exasperated chuckle. The intimacy made him ache. Then he came around the corner to find them quickly moving away from each other. He wondered if they were sleeping together again, and supposed it was only a matter of time. 

That night, he briefly considered going through the surveillance tapes to look for evidence -- but really, what was he hoping to find? Vahlen bent over a desk, Shen sinking his long fingers into her hair? Shen backed against a bulkhead, Vahlen on her knees in front of him? 

He came hard in his hand, gasping until he felt sick.

\---

When they destroyed the alien base, he had one brief euphoric moment, looking around Mission Control and thinking, “We did it.” Making the rounds, patting backs, shaking hands, exchanging satisfied grins.

He turned and saw Vahlen. For a wild second, it occurred to him that he should kiss her. Right in that moment he could get away with it, maybe, and chalk it up to the excitement of victory. But she wasn’t smiling. She thought it was too early to celebrate, and shook her head in disappointment. 

In the following days, she made herself unavailable whenever he visited Research, but sent him brief, formal emails every evening, detailing her investigation into the Hyperwave Beacon. It was starting to look like it had indeed been too early to celebrate. They thought they’d caught the big bad, but the big bad was still out there.

He found himself in Engineering one morning. He followed Shen into his office and closed the door behind them. “This thing with the Beacon,” he began. 

Shen nodded. “It seems there’s more than meets the eye.”

“Do you think this is on the level? Dr. Vahlen’s notes?”

Shen frowned. Carefully, he said, “I have never known her to falsify research.”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I just …” He rubbed his face. “I’m not good at admitting when I’m wrong.”

Shen rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment, then stretched his arm over both shoulders and pulled the younger man to his side. “You wanted it to be over.”

Bradford took a deep, ragged breath and relaxed into Shen. This was dangerous ground, but he just didn’t have it in him to pull away. The office had a window that opened onto the main Engineering floor; the blinds were half-closed, and this was what passed for privacy in the base. He looked at Shen, feeling hopeless and hopeful at the same time. 

And then Shen pulled his arm back and stepped away. “It’s not over,” he said gently. 

“No,” Bradford agreed. “But we’ll end it soon.”

\---

The attack on HQ took them all unawares, and they lost too damn many people defending their turf. Once he’d secured Mission Control and Delta Section, he took the stairs two at a time down to Research. He knew the aliens hadn’t made it this far in, but there were corpses anyway -- the mind-controlled saboteurs and their victims. He recognized a few faces, but the truth was, he’d never gotten to know most of the scientists down here. 

Trying to keep the panic out of his voice, he called, "Dr. Vahlen?" 

"Ah, Central Officer Bradford." Her head popped up over one of the desks. Her workstation, he noted, tipped on its side to serve as impromptu cover. The surface was scorched and pitted. She stood and straightened her lab coat. "I must thank you for the laser pistol and the instruction in its operation. It proved most use--”

Before he knew what he was doing, he had his arms around her. She stiffened for a moment, her hands fluttering, unsure where to rest. Then she relaxed, and they settled on his shoulder blades. His hands were on her waist. She smelled like sweat and ozone and blood, and underneath all that, the barest hint of that damned orange perfume. 

"Anyone in here?" 

It was Shen. Relief flooded through Bradford, but he realized he was still holding Vahlen. He pulled away and gestured toward her lamely. "Dr. Vahlen's all right." 

"Of course she is," Shen scoffed. "My first week here, I had the place retrofitted to withstand a firefight inside, right down to the laser-proof desks." He pointed at Bradford. "You told the Commander it would be a waste of resources, so I just bundled the cost into other projects." 

"He loves saying 'I told you so,'" Vahlen said drily. 

"And I get to say it so often," he retorted, smiling. "The life of an unappreciated genius." 

"I appreciate you," Bradford said.

They both looked at him, surprised. His cheeks went hot. It was a reasonable thing to say, right? So why did he feel so self-conscious? Pushing that down, he continued. "Really. We couldn't do any of this without you." 

Vahlen was nodding, although she was having trouble meeting Shen’s eyes. “He’s absolutely right. I don’t say it often enough, but …”

Shen waved her off. “Yes, yes, we all nearly died, and now we’re fine. Let’s just assume we went through the requisite sentiment, and get back to work.” He looked around, his face grim. “Marie, I assume you want the bodies of the ones who were mind-controlled?”

She pushed her hair out of her face and picked up her tablet from the ground. If her hands shook, the men were too polite to point it out. “Of course,” she said, forcing her voice into its usual crispness.

\---

They both showed up in his office that night. Shen brought a pot of tea, but Vahlen just laughed at that and pulled out a bottle of clear brandy. They tried adding the brandy to the tea, which was horrible; they drank it anyway. Bradford sat in his chair while Vahlen perched on the edge of his desk and Shen leaned against the wall. 

“How do you keep getting this stuff?” Bradford finally asked.

Vahlen grinned into her cup. “Sometimes, the soldiers bring me things they find on missions. It was Jagermeister last time; I told them to keep that Saxon swill. But a nice eau-de-vie? That, I will accept.” 

Bradford eyed her suspiciously. “Are you using your feminine wiles to get contraband?”

“She doesn’t need wiles,” Shen said. “It comes naturally.”

She sniffed. “A purely platonic token of their professional esteem, I assure you.” She looked back at the bottle. “This one was from Longbow.” 

They were quiet for a moment. Longbow had died that day. Still, the mood wasn’t quite solemn. Vahlen had a nervous energy about her, her leg jostling restlessly. 

“First time getting shot at?” Bradford asked quietly. She nodded. 

“Marie was mugged one day when we were working together,” Shen said. Vahlen shot him an embarrassed look, but he continued. “In the morning, in the clear daylight, on the way to the lab. He had a knife, if I recall correctly, but she wasn’t injured. She came in and worked half the day before I noticed anything was wrong. She wouldn’t stop shaking her damn leg.” He laughed ruefully. “And then she followed me out to my car and fucked me in the backseat.”

Bradford nearly spit out his drink. 

“Also in the clear daylight,” Shen added.

Vahlen shook her head. “Honestly, Raymond.”

He shrugged. “It’s a perfectly normal response to peril. Asserting control. Affirming that one is alive. Connecting.”

“Raymond,” she said again. It was a warning.

“I’m sure you’ve seen that sort of thing before, Bradford,” he continued. Then he corrected himself: “Mike.”

Bradford was suddenly aware of the exact distance between each of them. All at once, it seemed they were far too close, and entirely too far apart. He watched Vahlen catch Shen’s gaze and hold it. Her leg stilled, and she set down her cup. In the space of a few breaths, something silent and complex passed between them, and Bradford only had a second to speculate before the meaning became obvious: In two quick strides, she was in Shen's arms, her mouth on his like a force of nature. 

It was mesmerizing. They weren’t beautiful people -- none of them were -- but Shen and Vahlen melted into each other desperately. Bradford knew in that moment that they hadn’t been sleeping together all along; this was their first kiss in two decades. Bitterness rising in his throat, he turned toward the door that led to his bunk. Then he heard her pull away from Shen and call to him. 

"Mike!” she cried, a little breathless. It was the first time she’d called him that, and her voice sounded like sex, and it wasn’t for him. He thought about punching the door. She continued, “I don't want you to go." 

He shook his head. "It seems like the two of you need--"

"Raymond doesn't want you to go either,” she said. “Do you, Dr. Shen?" 

The older man chuckled. "An astute observation as always, Dr. Vahlen."

Bradford turned back and saw Shen come up behind her. He ran his hands up her arms and over her shoulders, sending a shiver that Bradford could see traveling the length of her body. Then Shen's hands were in her hair, removing the clip she always used to hold it up. As it fell around her flushed face, he met Bradford's gaze. The easy intimacy between the two of them, the walls breaking down as if they'd been lovers yesterday instead of twenty years ago, hit Bradford low in his gut. And they were inviting him to share in it. 

"Oh," he said quietly. 

Vahlen took a slow step toward him. She reached out to him, found his arm, then his shoulder, then the back of his neck and his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed. They snapped open again when he felt another hand on the other side of his face. Shen’s calloused fingers traced his jawline. 

“This is definitely against regulations,” Bradford protested feebly. 

"It's only natural," she said, echoing their old debate. 

He huffed a laugh. “We aren't young or in peak physical form.”

“No,” she said, tilting her face up to his. “But we are under a great deal of stress, aren’t we?” 

He pressed a kiss to the heel of Raymond’s hand, then leaned in and kissed Marie’s lips. He just didn’t have it in him to stop.


End file.
